Chapter 159

Zhang Qiu instantly understood Harry's meaning; she glanced at her watch, then swiftly pulled a small porcelain bottle and a golden hair wrapped in a handkerchief from her storage pouch.

Neville first tried touching the girls' bathroom doorknob with his bare hand, jerking it back as if shocked; then, cautiously scanning the surroundings, he saw no one else besides the two invisible Harrys, so he wrapped the knob in his sleeve and tried opening it through the fabric.

That failed too, so he whispered a locking spell at the doorknob—still no effect. At that moment, Zhang Qiu's transformation completed; she was muttering a charm over her robe, preparing to reshape it into Donald Fontroy's usual style.

Neville heard the noise and glanced over; just as Harry had seen before, he pointed his wand at the girls' bathroom doorknob and cast a Confundus Charm.

The Confundus Charm may have worked, but Zhang Qiu, transformed into Donald Fontroy, swiftly stopped him.

With Neville gone, the final task of the night was done; the two returned to the Chamber, and Harry plopped onto the sofa Zhang Qiu had brought, exhaling heavily.

"Are you planning to stay here?" Zhang Qiu's tone carried a hint of anticipation.

"The Doctor said he's coming to pick me up tomorrow morning," Harry glanced around, but saw no second bed in the Chamber.

"The Doctor?" Zhang Qiu mused, "You saw him when you were bathing before, right?"

"More accurately, I saw him leaving the Headmaster's office," Harry said casually. "They must have had secret matters to discuss—normal enough."

"But I think it might be this way," Zhang Qiu whispered. "The Doctor intended to directly TARDIS to early tomorrow, but due to brake failure or something similar, he appeared in Dumbledore's office before the banquet."

"And at that moment, Donald Fontroy was in the office discussing Avalon with Dumbledore," Zhang Qiu flipped through her journal. "The sudden intrusion startled Donald, causing him to knock over his coffee."

"Why would you say that? Do you know something?" Harry's mind was still half on how to spend the night.

"Because I think this might be fate's choice," Zhang Qiu stood and paced. "Fate needed Donald to knock over his coffee, so he'd go to the Room of Requirement to wash up nearby after leaving the office—giving us the chance to quietly steal his hair."

"So the Doctor, this traveler, is again working for time," Harry followed along. "But why do we need his hair? It's another time loop—there are many ways to stop Neville from entering the Chamber. Why must we use the Donald Fontroy impersonation?"

"Perhaps because fate thinks we still need to impersonate Donald Fontroy—for example..." Zhang Qiu paused, flipping through her journal. "Do you recall anything significant?"

"Hmm. Maybe the Colin case?" Harry instantly thought of the incident where Donald met a White House guest during a match and briefly revealed the details of Colin's attack.

"When Colin was attacked, Donald wasn't in his office—he might have been in the Room of Requirement," Zhang Qiu checked her records.

"Yes, he stopped Luna from touching the diadem then, because it was dangerous," Harry said. "But I mean earlier that day, on the pitch—he spoke with Professor Hape."

"Exactly," Zhang Qiu pointed to her journal. "That day he didn't watch the match—he was busy setting up Avalon."

"So today's time loop is fate hinting we need to impersonate Donald Fontroy to orchestrate the Colin case," Harry nodded. "But why the Colin case? Even if we didn't attack him, nothing would change, right?"

"If we don't attack Colin..." Zhang Qiu flipped through her journal, silent for a long while.

"Could it be related to Chamber politics?" Harry speculated irresponsibly. "Like fate wanting political conditions to develop in a certain direction?"

"Didn't the Doctor warn us not to probe fate's purpose too deeply?" Zhang Qiu frowned. "Besides, Colin's attack was already written in the original divination—let's just treat it as an event fate must fulfill."

"The original divination?" Harry realized—Zhang Qiu wasn't just seeking temporal consistency; she was also trying to reconstruct or witness those prophecies—or rather, fate's original trajectory.

"The naive boy and the burnt camera—what did he capture?" Zhang Qiu tried translating the Chinese characters into English Harry could understand. "Something like that. When we were in second year, we saw the boy and the camera. Now, if we can figure out what he actually photographed, we might gain significant progress."

"Alright," Harry shrugged. He didn't much care to decipher fate's intentions anymore. "So where do I sleep tonight..."

"Wait!" Zhang Qiu suddenly raised a finger. "I drank the Polyjuice Potion I'd prepared for tonight—I think that's the key."

"Huh?" Harry blinked.

"And since I still need to impersonate Donald Fontroy for the Colin case, I don't have enough Polyjuice Potion—I need to brew more," she continued. "So we need to steal Snape's ingredients."

"What?" Harry was utterly confused. "I could just go back to Diagon Alley and buy you more."

"It's not that I'm short on ingredients," Zhang Qiu flipped to the very back of her divination. "It's that Snape has realized a student is stealing his materials. That way, if materials go missing next year, he'll assume it's the same student from this year."

"Next year?" Harry's mind twisted, realizing Zhang Qiu meant fourth year.

"Yes," Zhang Qiu read the ambiguous prophecy. "The divination says that only by term's end did people discover a father-and-son pair with the same name stole the potions master's materials and assumed an identity that wasn't his."

"But think differently—you don't need to steal the potions; Hermione will steal them anyway," Harry scratched his head.

"Hermione didn't steal them—she used Donald's," Zhang Qiu mused. "The divination doesn't mention it, but perhaps this is another important event."

"Besides, Snape's stolen materials are written in the divination. Rather than watch Hermione steal them, I'd rather do it myself," Zhang Qiu added.

Harry clenched his lips, unsure how to respond.

"Alright, I suppose you're tired. Let's sleep—this bed is big enough," Zhang Qiu sighed. "If you don't want to sleep here, you can go to the Room of Requirement—Donald rarely spends the night there."

"Uh... I'll sleep here," Harry had almost forgotten all matters of fate; his face flushed as he stammered, "I mean—I'm worried Dumbledore might come out at night to use the bathroom."

Before sleeping, Zhang Qiu whispered: "Thank you. I feel much better."

Early the next morning, Harry reluctantly bid Zhang Qiu farewell and returned to the Forbidden Forest, where the Doctor was already waiting.

"Good morning, Harry," Dobby said, one hand braced on the threshold, half-lifting his eyes.

"Good morning, Doctor," Harry hesitated. "Could I... stay a little longer here? Like, stay with Zhang Qiu for the entire year?"

"Oh, that won't be possible," the Doctor shook his head. "You can't linger too long in the past. If temporal potential builds up too much, it causes adverse consequences."

"For example," the Doctor gestured, "when you and Voldemort start dueling, time compresses the interval between spells too tightly—like firing a gun where the next bullet fires before the previous one even leaves the barrel."

"Will the wand explode?" Harry looked at the small wooden stick in his hand—unexpected, yet logical.

"According to my calculations, within safe and reasonable limits, you can still stay about a week," the Doctor said. "If you just visit a few times, it's more than enough."

"Then," Harry calculated the dates. "The Colin case on November seventh, the Jia Siting case on December twenty-first, the Penelope case on April seventeenth, and on June thirtieth, someone finally attacked Hermione."

"I'd like to spend those four days with Zhang Qiu. For the rest, I'll pick three days in February, March, and May."

"Fine," the Doctor nodded. "As long as you never stay a full twenty-four hours, we still have plenty of leeway." He pulled the lever.

Time arrived at November seventh: second-year Harry sweated on the pitch, third-year Harry watched foreign spies from below, and the returned Harry, with Zhang Qiu, quietly slipped to an obscure corner.

"I've told you Donald Fontroy's tone and words," Harry said nervously. "Ready?"

"Relax, Harry," Zhang Qiu glanced toward the Black Lake—Donald was urgently setting up a grand amusement ride for Ron. "Since this is a time loop, my successful performance is already a fixed fact. As long as I don't deliberately seek death, nothing serious will happen."

"Alright, alright," Harry still held his breath for her.

"Oh, wait." Zhang Qiu suddenly raised a finger for silence; both ducked back under the Invisibility Cloak.

Someone else had noticed this hidden corner—pointed ears, eyes as large as tennis balls, wearing a pillowcase.

Dobby crouched in the corner between the stands and the fence, peering out cautiously, using one finger to control a Bludger and attack second-year Harry.

"That rotten little thing!" Zhang Qiu scowled, drawing her sword, ready to teach him a lesson.

"Forget it," Harry pulled her back. "Second-year Harry's always been attacked by Bludgers—let it happen. History is history."

"Besides," Harry added with a touch of pity, "who's to say Dobby isn't worried about my safety and wants to give me an excuse to go home?"

"Who'd believe that?" Zhang Qiu scoffed, then drank the Polyjuice Potion, adjusted Donald Fontroy's tie, and strode confidently toward the two White House guests.